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contents–issue46
seth crook – a poem for those who holly day – thursday
alexis rhone fancher - murakami cento love poem #1 rab ferguson - the death of sherlock holmes
mitchell krockmalnik grabois - too much benadryl jenny hockey - city break
anna mace - lessons in love astra papachristodoulou – rays of pain
megan price - same old john richmond - me and my friends tomas sanchez hidalgo - insomnia
seth crook
A poem for those who are bored by the idea that titles should only be at the start of poems when they can also come at the end
holly day Thursday Suddenly, I know what is in the package. It’s another piece of child, sent to drive me crazy. The package is just the right size to hold a bunch of little bits. The very bottom of the stack of mail is a large manila envelope, full of photographs of people I don’t know or a finger, perhaps. I gently pick the package up and shake it, it sounds thick with paperwork, photographs of people I don’t know. The rest of the mail sits waiting to be sorted through at the very bottom of the stack is a large manila envelope, perhaps concealing another piece of child, sent to drive me crazy. The package has the return address of the new Baptist church in my neighborhood. Photographs of children pour out onto the floor from the package from the envelope, I think I recognize the handwriting.
alexis rhone fancher
Murakami Cento Love Poem #1 -All text taken from Haruki Murakami’s, Norwegian Wood.
1. It rained on her birthday. 2. I could feel the soft swell of her breasts on my chest. She herself had become small and narrow. Don’t worry, I said. Just relax. Before I knew it, I was kissing her. Her breathing intensified and her throat began to tremble. I parted her long, slim legs. But I’m scared, she said. She seemed to be turning over something in her mind. Do you have a girl you like? she asked. I took a sip of wine, as if I had never heard anything. 3. We were alive, she and I. I moved my lips up her neck to her ear and took a nipple with the finger of my other hand. We explored each other’s bodies in the darkness without words. It was easy. Almost too easy. 4. Glass shattered somewhere. I felt no pain to speak of, but the blood wouldn’t stop. 5. I smelled the meadow grass, heard the rain at night. 6. It was easy to tell which room was hers. All I had to do was find the one window toward the back where a faint light trembled. Come in, she said.
rab ferguson The Death of Sherlock Holmes No man can save Sherlock Holmes from the Reichenbach falls: not John Watson, nor Arthur Conan Doyle. Moriarty’s fingers always gripped the lapels of his coat and Sherlock clasped Moriarty’s shoulders in return, together they plummeted down holding each other as if before a kiss. Holmes may have climbed slippery footholds under falling boulders. Holmes may have been resurrected to solve 21st century crime. Holmes may have returned disguised as a waiter a chair a book-collector. But Holmes always died on the Reichenbach falls.
mitchell krockmalnik grabois
TooMuchBenadrylHornetsgrowfromthegroundlikegrass,stingersup.Ourmindsopenedbymescaline,wewalkthroughthisfieldbarefoot,mindlessofpainortoxin.Anyoneallergictowaspstingswouldalreadybedead.Thesunsetsorangeoverthemountain.Theelbowsofmybrownsweaterarefrayed.WeareeatingadietconsistingsolelyofThaichickensoupmadewithcoconutandlemongrass.Despitetheinfusionofcoconut,Isuddenlyfeelitchyallover.IcompulsivelyconsumeanentirepackageofBenadryl.Strangeasitsounds,mycousinkilledherselfwithanoverdoseofBenadryl.ThecoronercouldnottellmehowmuchBenadrylthatwouldtake.Noonekeptarecordofhowmanyemptypackagessurroundedherbody.MyfriendEdistryingtosimplifyhislife.Hesellspossessions.HeunfriendsFacebookfriendswhohavedied.Heencouragesmetodothesame.Butmypossessionsinsulatemefromoblivion.Myfriendswhohavediedmaywanttocontactme.Mycousinmaywanttocontactme,hereyesblurryandsleepyfromtoomuchBenadryl.Idon’thaveaOuijaboard,butIhaveFacebook.Idon’twantyouradvice,Ed.Idon’twantyourdesperation.Smokebillowsfromyourlaptop.Cremationsareinprogress.Myfatherwasanelectricalengineer.Hepioneereddrones.LikeGodhimself,hebroughtdeathunseenfromthesky.Hewasabadfather,buthe’sstillmyFacebookfriend.
jenny hockey CityBreakSameold,same-asyoumightsay.Maybebecauseofthelight.Thisgreydraininginofthecity.No.Thetimeaswell.Thedayalreadyeclipsingintohardlybegun.Ourtimeasone.TodayIambackinthishotel’sbankofsadness,graphiteandgreenanddullgauzegatheredatawindowthatadmitsneitherskynorground,justthemeangapbetweenhereandwhat’soverthere.Sliverthin,likethekeythatsawmein,Iamatliberty,glidingthebuffofwallsthatwrapapastanddirtylight,morethananything.Thelight
anna mace LessonsinLoveOnVictoriaplatform,Iwatcheditbreakmyheart,rippeditvast,acrossyourface,tomemoriessurrenderingbloodtogravity,briefly,thoughtofcallingmymother,butsheisontheothersideofthisblackhole.Andshecan’thear.Orsee.Whoissurewheretracinglightreallyfalls,Iwonder.Whenonceshapesalife?Seekingtreasureinthegap,stoicallyfoldedawayandsixpointed,hiddenplacesnurturinglove,wheresomethinghasassembledme.Itightenedroundyourwords,snailedinsidemywomb.Thewayyouglowed,andrememberedhowEscherlovedworlds,andIlovedeyes,youasked,howisit,attheageof33,you’restillterrifiedofbeingateenagemother?Whywemeasuretheworldinratios,indices,borrowedpatterns?Icouldn’thelpbutsmileatthewaywestamped,thegeometryofthisterritoryintheexchangeofourhands,andhowwelaughedalittle,andpulledaway.Whilstlovestayedput,wavingbravelyfromthetrain.
Playingseemseasierthanpraying;Ireconcilethelineinreverse,holdvoyageinarmchairssurroundedbyidols,plush,brassdoorknobs,art,sweat,
whilstsalutingredwinetothelettersboundinconsolably,toDolce,bornfromthevoidforathinglikethat.Iterating,satin,scar(red)-letheart,stuffed.Ican’tbearthebeautyofsilence,thecascadeoflightdrops,grazedstiffrecedingintheripple,whenthesilhouettewindowyawns,Itellmyself,Itellmyself,allthingswilldie.Thosepatternsonscreenarereadingbestwhatwelovemost.IscrabbleforA9I9R6p2r6e12c2i9o8u4s4w4o8r6d4s4,withallthespacetheygiveandforalltheirworth,love,justtimesickness.That’sallitis.Wedon’ttalkabouthowdizzying,howfragileitsscent,likemilkteethunderpillows,diffusingdreamsaswesleep,hopingsomeonewillcraftthemintomagic,spells: W.EA.R.EE.N.O.U.G.H.despitethefalls,theclutchatourhearts,stringofwoundstrailing,stillwanttoknow: W.EA.R.EE.N.O.U.G.H.incantationsthatdrawustofullheight,elevateknightsintoshiningstars,smallsteps,love,aday–alifetime,startwithsmallwords: W.EA.R.EE.N.O.U.G.H.
9Wheresomethinghasme9assemblinglove,hidingpoints6tonurturethegap,enfoldingsuffering-2wesoughttreasureinlife.6Iwonder,12canwetracetheseatothelight?2Butthisblackistheothersideofthewhole.9Mymothercalls8thethoughttogravity,and4bloodsurrenders.Wefaceour4memories,hardlybrief4kisses,theseareafterall,8vastrippinghearts.Watching6victorybreakontheplatform,knowitis4loverepeating,circling,foreverso.4Asabove.
RAYS OF PAIN
LOVE
is
a su
n
with
double
face
and
of
attraction
of
blee
d
but
if
timing
speed
it
wrong
love’s
blade
own
to
make you
gets
will
megan price
SameOld
Itwasalwaysthesame:she’dgetbacklaterthanshemeantto,buthenever
complained.He’dhaveabottleofredalreadyopen.They’dsitatthetable:herat
theheadinwhatwashisseatatmealtimes–agrandwoodenarmchaircarvedby
hisgrandmother;himtoherright,leaningonhisarmtowatch,readyforbed,but
happyforhercompany.Whennooneelsewasthere,heandArthur,his–once
Lucy’s–faithful,ifslightlyneurotic,cockapoo,keptatightregime.Youhadtoput
astructureinplacewhenyouwereretiredandlivingonyourown.Andbesides,
therewasnothingtostopyoudoingasyouwished,sowhenyoufoundawayyou
liked,youkepttoit;perfectedit.
Hewatchedherwolfbackthebitsofnicestuffhe’dputtogether:alumpof
cheese,atomatocutintoquarters,someolives,thatkindofthing.Heknewthat
whatshereallywantedwasachunkofcrustyporkpie,butshewasdeterminedto
keeptoherpescitariandiet.‘Littlepesky,’thatshewas.Heknewhewasrepeating
thesamejokebycallingherthat,buthedidn’tcare–itstillmadehimlaugh.
Sheshovedanotherpieceoftomatointohermouthbeforeproperly
swallowingwhatwasalreadyinit;shehadthehealthyappetiteofLucy’sfamily.
ShewassolikeLucythatsometimesheforgotandheldherhandlikealovernota
daughter.Itembarrassedhimwhenthathappened,butithappenedlessthese
days,mostlyonlywhenhegotdrunk.Hewasalwaysoveraffectionatewhenhe
gotdrunkanyway.Notsleazylikehisfriend,Martin–oratleasthelikedtothink
not,butheknewhehuggedtootightsometimes.‘AlrightEd,’they’dlaugh,usedto
hisamorousways;thoughtheamoroustheywereimaginingwasn’ttheamorous
hefelt:insidewasarealandactuallove;hecaredandwantedtosqueezethem
tighttosay,I’mgladyou’reinmylife,Ihopeyou’regladyou’reinminetoo.That
sortofthingwasokayinthetribehe’dlivedwithinCameroon.Somuchmorewas
okay.Evendeath.
‘Mmm,thatwasgood,thanks,’shepushedherplateaway.
‘Bitmorewine?’
Sheshookherheadandyawned.‘Nothanks,Ishouldgettobed.’
‘Yesweshould,shouldn’tweArthur.’
Arthurwaslaidflatonthefloor,chinoncrossedpawslikesomeanimal
anthropomorphisedinacartoon.Hearinghisnamehesnortedagreement.
Shegotupandputtheplateinthedishwasher.‘Tea?’
‘Doublegingerandhoney.’
Shefilledupthekettleandflickediton.Shepulledoutacamomileteabag
forherself;twogingerandhoneybagsforhim.WhenLucyhadfirstgotinto
herbalteaandtriedtogethimintoittoo,he’dcomplainedabouttheirweaktaste.
She’dresolvedtheproblembydoublingupthedose.ThatwasprettymuchLucy’s
attitudetolife.
‘Halfateaspoon?’shepulleddownaglassjarofsugarfromtheshelf.
‘It’sabigmug.’
Shesmirkedathim,‘uh-ha?’
‘Itwasn’tthatthatgavemetheheartattack!’
‘IknowDad,’shesaidandpiledaheapedteaspoonofsugarintotheaverage
sizedmug.
Upstairs,theyleftthedoorsopenastheygotreadyforbed.Withakneeonthe
toiletseat,sheleantintothemirrorandpeeredatherface:notreallytakingitin;
morerememberingwhatitusedtolooklike.Sheshookthecleanserbottleonto
thecottonpad:empty.Mumwouldhavesomeinthedrawernexttoherbed.
ShewanderedintoMumandDad’sbedroom.‘OkayifIusesomeofMum’s
cream?’
‘Whatwasthat?’Dadcameoutoftheensuite,atoweldrapedoverhis
outstretchedhands;soapywaterdrippingdownfromhisfaceintoit.
‘OkaytouseMum’scream,’sheasked,thoughshewasalreadypullingopen
thedrawer.
‘Ofcoursedarling.Betteritdoesn’tgotowaste.’Heshovedhisfaceintothe
towel,andrubbeditroughly.
Slowlysheandhersisterworkedthroughthemashupofbeautyproducts
inthesquaretopdrawer.Otherthings,likethejewellery,stayedwheretheywere
fornow.Mum’swatchlaynexttotheoldradioalarmclock,andinsidethecircleof
thefastenedstrap,washergoldandrubyring.Mumhadbeensohappywhenshe
discoveredwhatabargainshe’dgotonthering.
‘Yougirlsneedtodecidewhichyouwant,’hecamecloser,usinghislittle
fingerpokedintothetoweltodryhisear.Heswitchedthetowelintohislefthand
andscoopedtheringontohisthesamefinger.‘Youknowshewassopleasedto
findthisonline,andthenwegotitvaluedanditwasworththreetimestheamount
wepaid.Atleast.’
‘Uh-ha.YouknowIdon’treallymind.WhateverRobsprefers.’
‘Shesaysthesame.’
‘How’syournose?’shetwistedhisshoulderssohefacedher.
‘Oew,’hegaveafakewhineofdespair,butlethishandsdropbyhisside.
‘IknowDad,butIdon’twantyoulikeoneofthoseoldmen.Comeunderthe
light.’
Heletherguidehimandtippedhisheadbacksothatthelightcaughthis
noseperfectly.
‘See,there,you’vegotalongonerightinthemiddle.Staythere.’She
openedthebathroomcabinetandtookoutMum’spinktweezers.Quicklyshehad
themgrippedaroundthethick,whitehair.Sheflickedherwrist.
‘Ow.’
‘Itwasn’tthatbad,’shegrinned.‘Justafewmore.’Sheworked
methodicallyacrosshisnose,givingitherfullattention.
‘Ow!Thatonereallydidhurt.Theyalwayshurtthere,aroundthenostril.’
‘Sorry,’shestrokedhisnosegentlytomakesureshehadn’tmissedany,
thenputdownthetweezersnexttothewatchandring,andturnedintentlytohis
nose.
‘SavemeArthur.’
‘Dad,honestly,Ishowedyouthatguy.’ShemeanttheguyonYoutube,with
thebulbousnosesthathadhisblackheadsandwhiteheadspoppedoutwitha
metalimplementsothattheysquiggledlikelittleworms.
‘Don’tremindme,’hesaid,rollinghiseyes.Hewasverycampforsucha
straightman:theoriginalnewageman.
SheandMumusedtolaughathowsoppyhewas;thewayhewavedthem
goodbye,liketheywereoffonalongroadtrip,wheninfacttheywereonlygoing
tothesupermarket.Mumwassodynamicthatitleftheralittleperplexed.Your
father,she’dsay,andshakeherhead.Butshe’dgiveasmiletoo:asmalloneto
herself,asifshewassayingunderherbreathe‘andIlovehim’.
Sheturnedherhandsinandusedthecurveofherforefingernailstopinch
togetherandsqueezeathisnose.
‘Ineverletyourmumdothis.’
‘IknowDad,butshe’dbepleased.She’dhateitifRobinandIdidn’ttake
careofyou.’
‘Humpf.Andmetakecareofyoutoo.’
‘YesDad….Ohhh!’Athinsquiggleofwhitejettedoutofthesideofhisnose.
Itwasn’tquitethewormsofthevideo,butitwassatisfyingnevertheless.‘Thatone
wasgood.’
‘You’vegotatissueIhope?’hesaid.
‘Nope.’
‘Typical,’hereachedintohispocketandpulledoutahanky.
john richmond
“MEANDMYFRIENDS”
Hestoodthere,notquiteinadumbfoundstatebutliterally“…dumb…”
enough-mute-untilhe“…found…”awayto“replay”hislastexchangewiththe
CustomerServiceRepattheAmtrakcounter.
“How’sthenoontrainfrombackeastdoing?”heaskedwhenitwashisturnto
approachthecounter.
TheReplookedupquicklyandthenjustasquicklylookedaway.“TheLake
ShoreLimited?It’srunningalittlelate.”
HelookedpasttheReptotheclockontherearwall.Itsaidelevenforty-five,
stillintheAM.
“Alittlelate,huh?”heaskedwithaconstantnoddingthatbetrayedhisgut-
levelfeelingthattherewasgoingtobeaproblem.“Whatdoes‘…alittlelate…’mean
inChicago?”
“Three-o-five,”wastheanswerthatricochetedupoffthepaperworkinfront
oftheRep.
Ashestoodthere,somanythingswerevyingtobevoiced.Thingslike-
(1) “…whatkindofrailroadareyourunning?”
(2) “…doyouknowhowlongittookmetodriveinfromLombard?”
(3) “…whatamIsupposetodoforthreehours?”
Butallhedidwasshakehishead,mutterasharplywordedandincredulous,
“What?”andthenleft.
HewalkedoutofUnionStation,lookedovertheChicagoRiverandthought
aboutwhathewasgoingtodo.
“Imightaswellgetsomethingtodrink,”headvisedhimselfandsurveyed
thepromenadeontheothersideoftheriver.There,offtotheleftwasanoutdoor
café.HemadehiswaytherebywayoftheWestAdamsStreetBridgeandwaitedat
thehostess’station.
Hewatchedherwalkuptohim.Shewascuteandpetite,twoattributes
whichwerehighonhislist.Hernametagsaid,“Barbara.”
“Atableforone?”sheaskedwithasmile.
“Yes,”hesaidandthenadded,“couldIgetoneattherailing,nexttothe
river?”
Sheglancedbrieflyattheavailabletablesandthenturnedbacktohim.
“I’msorry,wedon’thaveanythingbytherailing.”
Helookedpasther,thenpointedandasked,“Howaboutthattableover
there?”
Afterahesitatingmoment,shefinallyasked,“Youwantmetoseatyou-by
yourself-atatablethatseatssix?”
“Yes,Ido,”herepliedconfidently.
“I-see,”shesaidslowlyandthenpausedbeforesheuppedtheantewhen
shesaid,“Tellmeagoodstory.”
Atthispoint-nodoubt-anyperceptivepersoninthecaféwouldhadtohave
beenblindnottonoticethecomplementingtwinkleinbothoftheireyes.Shewas
gameandhewasready.
“Wouldyoubelieve,”hebeganandthenshiftedhisweighttobringhimever
soslightlyclosertoher,“wouldyoubelievethatIhavemultiplepersonalitiesand
theyallneedtheirownseats?”
Shesmiledawidesmiledandthenlookedbackatthetables.
“Oh,look,there’sacouplegettingupfromthattablefortwoattherailing.
Doyouthinkthatallofyourpeoplecouldsqueezethemselvesintothosetwo
seats?”
Helookedoveratthetable,foundittobesatisfactoryandthensaid,“Idon’t
know,letmeaskthem.”
Withthat,heturnedawayfromher,tookastepbackandbeganan
imaginary-andhushed-conversationwithhispersonalities.Finally,he
straightenedup,steppedbacktowardherandannounced,“Theysaidthatitwould
beallright.”
“Wonderful,”shesaidandsmiled,“please,ifyouwouldallcomethisway.”
Hespentthebetterpartofthethreehourssittingthereattherailingand
drinkingwine.Onhiswayout,hegaveherasixtydollartip.
Shelookedatthemoneyandsaid,“Ican’ttakethis,it’stoomuch.”
“Yesyoucanandnoit’snot,”hecounteredandpaused.“Look,”he
continued,“whenIsaidthatthingaboutthepersonalities,youcouldhavewritten
meoffacompletejerk.Butyoudidn’t.Youplayedalong.Itwasfun.Youdeserve
it.”
Shethankedhimandthenexcusedherselftoattendtonewcustomerswho
werewaitingforatable.
He,then,madehiswaybackacrosstheriverandintoUnionStationtomeet
hisarrivalcominginontheLakeShoreLimited.
END
ts hidalgo Insomnia Too much time on the wall: the number of times a suitcase turns does not determine the turn or the rhythm of the ballad: no one loses all the time, and I suspect that even those from Dubai probably know that, -or was it maybe another Emirate?-, those 2,500,000, or so, all lit up, there below, all of them: none even travels by canoe or panda bear; and if a raggedy cloud just scratched the life from a human eye in a close-up…: back to what I was saying, long live Scotland, and I drink Scotland: I raffle the rules, gazing at the Alhambra, and the palindromes, and I loathe the cathodic jail, while I take a seat: welcome to the sudden AK-47 of my voice.